


Endings

by ADaughterOfColdharbour



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADaughterOfColdharbour/pseuds/ADaughterOfColdharbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Siege of Orgrimmar began, the banshee queen lost something she never possessed in the first place. (Lor'Themar/Sylvanas. Character death. 2shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello. Alright, so I wrote this little tidbit of a fic late the other night, when I was thinking about what Sylvanas said to Lor'Themar about how he would 'make an attractive corpse.' Anyhoodle, so I took some creative license with the exchange between the two (mostly because I couldnt remember everything that was said hehe) and made a little somewhat fluffy, dare I say a little heartbreaking, fic for my WoW OTP. It will be a 2shot and a 2shot only; I shant be expanding this. Anyhoodle, enjoy! x

She had laughed, initially. Making a joke in a small, half-hearted attempt to relieve tension before the battle began. She didnt really care for the moods of the warriors and mages and archers and all the rest around her, she was merely reveling in the fact that she could joke with him again. It had been so long, her emotions closed off for too long. She never quirked a brow or cracked a smile to indicate what she was feeling; showing emotions meant showing weakness. She had hardened her heart and built a wall around it. But now ... her armor cracked. After the years of being closed off, all it took was conversing with and being near him again to bring down those carefully constructed walls.

And so, as the siege of Orgrimmar was about to truly begin, the Banshee Queen was cracking a joke at the Lord Regent of Silvermoon. As if no time had passed. As if they were rangers together again. As if her heart still beat beneath her breast. She remembered her fellow Horde leaders making small speeches to encourage the heroes around them, but only one voice stood out from all of them. Sylvanas had already readied her bow, an arrow from her quiver poised and ready to be raised and fired. She had always loved the rush of battle, and the waiting game before each one was always horrendous. She was itchy with anticipation, her anger and frustration peeking through in her tight muscles and narrowed gaze. But then she heard Lor'Themar's voice, and she was back in Silvermoon, training and laughing together. Her ears all but twitched in his direction as she zeroed in on his words of encouragement to those around them. And with that, her stance relaxed. She turned her head to his direction, her mouth quirked up in a smile.

"If you were to fall in battle," she called to him, "- I could bring you back. You would make an attractive corpse." The Banshee Queen could feel herself smiling lightly at her old friend and previous second-in-command. Lor'Themar was gazing at her with his one eye alight with humor -she knew if they had been standing closer together, he'd lean in to whisper 'dont make me laugh on a battlefield, this is serious' in her ear as he would attempt to contain his laughter (badly)- and his lips twitched the slightest bit to keep from smiling. She could almost see a light blush of embarrassment on his neck.

"Glad you think so," he called back, and Sylvanas immediately turned her head away from him to hide the fact she was biting her lip to keep from smiling. Oh yes, the walls had definitely crumbled.

But now, thinking over that joke she had made, Sylvanas realized how ironic it all was. But that was the one constant in her life, wasnt it? Irony. She remembered throwing an old coin into the fountain at Dalaran, wishing that she and her sisters would get married and be happy together. Now one was dead, one was missing, and one married to a human. She remembered giving a speech as the Ranger General of Silvermoon: We will protect our people and our lands from the Scourge, at the cost of our lives if need be. Look how that turned out. And finally she remembered what she said before the battle began: You'd make an attractive corpse.

He did.


	2. Chapter 2

She didnt cry. She didnt fall to her knees and scrape at the earth with her nails in a tantrum, cursing the injustice of the world. She was all too familliar with the injustices of the world; she was used to it. Instead, she screamed. She wailed. The Banshee Queen lived up to her name as she deafened the enemies around her with her pure, admonished cry of rage and sadness.

Sylvanas couldnt remember how far into the battle he had fallen. He had lasted a good while; he always was a good warrior. All Sylvanas could remember was jogging back and forth along the rear of their small army, firing arrows one after the other in quick successions. They all hit their target, and she could feel her small smile from before the battle widen with each kill. Death was her domain. This is where she was most comfortable: taking life on the battlefield. She could remember never having this much bloodlust before she was felled and raised by Him. But death had changed her, service to a Death Knight of the Lich King made her angrier and hungrier for the blood of her enemies.

Sylvanas remembered that inevitable moment of running out of arrows. So she reequiped her bow and drew her shining silver sword; it sang through the air as she ran to the fray of battle, cutting down everything around her. Blood hit her face and hair; she could feel a few rivulets make it's slow journey down her exposed abdomen. She grinned. She laughed. She turned to the right to find more enemies to empale upon her blade. She froze.

There were three on him. The warriors around him were too distracted with their own fights to even notice. Sylvanas froze for a moment; her mind taking the time to catch up to what she was seeing and properly register it. Lor'Themar was bleeding, his hair in a wild dissaray as he clenched his teeth and attempted to thwart three enemies at once. In an instant Sylvanas was making her way across the battlefield, not even stopping to swipe at those who attacked her. As she watched, she saw him begin to falter, his stance becoming sluggish as his sword dropped a few inches lower. She was still halfway across the battlefield; she wasnt going to make it.

The utmost enraging slap in the face from the universe presented itself then. Sylvanas was only five feet away from Lor'Themar and his two attackers -he had killed one, but the other two did not seem to be tiring or weakening at all- when one orc's sword found its way home. It went straight through his chest, perfectly between two ribs, and Sylvanas could see the tip of it sticking comically out of Lor'Themar's back. It was absolutely soaked with blood, dripping crimson onto the dirt below them. Sylvanas didnt pause in her stride, though she felt as though the ground had rocketed beneath her. She pulled her sword back, and with a mighty banshee cry, took a leap and brought her sword slicing horizontally, right through the neck of the orc with his sword through Lor'Themar's chest.

His head was sent flying, and the large green body fell quickly after that. Its arms dropping from the sword that was still embedded in the elf, gravity kicked in and his body fell right to the ground below. Lor'Themar fell to the ground, to his knees, catching himself with his hands in an attempt to keep the sword from jostling. But it did, and as the shock of sharp pain jolted through him, he fell to his side and didnt move.

Sylvanas had made quick work of the other orc in her rage, and then turned to see the unnervingly still elf behind her. Eyes going wide, she quickly sheathed her sword and slid down next to him, slapping his face a few times. "Come now, Lor. You have a city to run and a people to govern; there's no backing out now," she said to him, not noticing that she was gently pushing the hair from his face with her other hand. Not getting a response, she leaned down close to his chest, attempting to hear a hearbeat and carefully avoiding the sword. After a tense moment, she could indeed hear a very faint, very weak thump.

Nearly crying out in relief, Sylvanas pulled him as carefully as she could, so he was lying half on her knees, his left arm pressed against her abdomen. She cradled his head as she moved him, still pushing the hair from his face. The sword grazed the ground to Sylvanas' right leg gently, and she gritted her teeth. Tearing her gaze away from him, she looked up and around them, desperation in her eyes. "PRIEST! SHAMAN! SOMEONE WHO CAN HEAL! NOW!" She called, wincing at how broken her voice sounded.  
She could have been whispering for all the attention was paid her way. No one so much as glanced in her direction; everyone too focused on the heat of battle. Sylvanas gritted her teeth, hissing out a sharp "Damn it," under her breath. Beneath her, Lor'Themar stirred, his right arm reaching up weakly. Her gaze shot down to him, and she saw his eye was open and staring at her.

"Syl ..." He said quietly, using his childhood nickname for her. Sylvanas smiled as she reached to his upheld hand, clasping her armoured fingers around his.

"No napping on the job," she commented, feeling her throat tighten minimally. Lor'Themar smiled and then coughed wetly, blood bubbling at his lips. He released her hand, and went to the hilt of the sword. Sylvanas immediately went to stop him, forcefully shoving his hand away. "No," she hissed. "You'll bleed out if it's removed. If - If we just wait a moment, a healer will come -"

"I - dont have - a moment. It's - It's - The damn thing's gone through a lung. I - I'm not getting out of this one, Syl," Lor'Themar interrupted her and then held her hand once more, his thumb rubbing her wrist. Sylvanas' eyes softened and she bit her lip, shaking her head.

"No. You're going to live through this, damn it! I wont let you die," she said, staring at him with her red eyes, surprisingly light and shining.

Lor'Themar only smiled. "Thought you'd just bring me back?" She only shook her head once more.

"There is no joy in this - this curse. I couldnt do this to you," she told him firmly. He only nodded, understanding. He reached up slowly, and she watched warily as his hand found its way to her cheek. Sylvanas reached a hand to place it over his, closing her eyes for the briefest second.

"I suppose this is goodbye then," he whispered, still touching her face. She felt her eyes burn with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She knew he only had moments; how could she ever make them count?

"Farewell, Lor'Themar Theron. May we one day meet again," she said softly, before leaning down to touch her lips ever so gently upon his, the briefest shadow of the kiss she had been meaning to place on him for years.

Lor'Themar smiled up at her, and Sylvanas smiled back down at him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Sylvanas realized three things. One, the tears she had been fighting had escaped, and landed in clear drops on Lor'Themar's face. Two, the hand that she held to her face had gone slack. Three, he was smiling up on her with a blank eye, completely still.

And then she wailed.

Oh, how she wailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I was really torn about writing out this chapter, and whether or not Sylvanas would make Lor'Themar undead. As much as I'd love to go OOC with them and have her bring him to Undercity and giggle with her new toy, I didnt think she would. As much as I believe she cares for him (he was her second in command when they were rangers; they spent a lot of time together) and even loves him, Sylvanas hates what she is. She is incredibly strong, physically and mentally, to overcome Arthas' hold on her and free the other banshees and undead and unite them and whathaveyou. But, at the core of it, she hates what she is. So I dont think she would ever curse someone she cared deeply about with undeath, not unless they asked her to. And Lor'Themar didnt. So there we have it :')  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
